


scenes from a marriage

by SadieFlood



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 19:28:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20087530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieFlood/pseuds/SadieFlood
Summary: Abby and Erin figure it out, one adventure at a time.





	scenes from a marriage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [burglebezzlement](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burglebezzlement/gifts).

1.

"Come on, don't you think this is fun?" Abby helps Erin roll up her sleeping bag; the woman may be a brilliant scientist and an indisputable conductor of the metaphysical something or other, but she's never been good at this particular post-sleepover task.

She pretends not to notice Erin glaring at her as she pats the perfectly rolled sleeping bag with satisfaction. Erin slaps at a probably-imaginary bug on her arm.

"You're good to go," Abby says, and heads off after Holtzmann and Patty.

"Fun," Erin says. "No, Abby, I do not think this is _fun_. A, I barely slept last night."

"You're welcome, by the way."

"_Not_ for that reason." Abby doesn't have to turn around to know that Erin is blushing. "I meant because of the insects and the noise."

"Wow, sorry, I thought you liked it when--"

"_Not_ that kind of noise. And B, we are scientists. We shouldn't be traipsing around in the dirt looking for the Blair Witch."

Abby rolls her eyes. "I'm sorry, Erin, did I miss the sign saying we were entering Burkittsville, Maryland? Did I step over the little stick figures left outside our tent this morning? Am I standing in a corner right now?"

"That was obviously hyperbole," Erin mutters. "I just meant that we aren't cryptid hunters."

"Of course we're not. But we're getting paid--"

Erin perks up. "We're getting paid?"

"Yeah, of course, if we get photos. And it _is_ fun to hang out with everybody and be outdoors without any malevolent ghosts around for once. At least I think so."

"Fine," she says. "I'll keep an eye out for the Jersey Devil. Better?"

"Well, now you're just being ridiculous." Abby turns around to make a few additional points about how Erin seems determined not to have a good time, but she's actually grinning. 

"Come on," Erin says, taking the lead. "Holtzmann ran off yelling something about the mothman. We'd better catch up if you want your photos."

"You know," Abby calls after her, "the mothman is actually a benevolent figure, if you read the literature--"

*

2.

For someone who can be very particular about her food, Abby has a tendency to treat cooking like a science experiment. The answer to "what if I do _this_" is frequently inedible. Luckily, she's usually too busy with _actual_ science to bother, so she generally ends up ordering takeout meals of varying quality.

Erin has never been especially fond of wonton soup, or Chinese food in general, but she's cultivated her own cache of menus over the years. After all, they're busy conducting the metaphysical examination; they don't have time for culinary exploration on top of busting ghosts.

Erin starts thinking that a vacation would be nice around the time that Abby starts falling asleep at her desk at the firehouse. She starts thinking that a vacation is _mandatory_ around the time that Abby almost breaks her neck slipping in some ectoplasm that could easily have been avoided if she'd been more alert.

Their last job had been at least 93% successful and, as such, they'd actually gotten paid. Not enough to go anywhere, really, but enough to allow all four of them (and Kevin) to take a week off to stay home and sleep without worrying about rent or bills or payroll.

It's a nice idea, in theory, but in practice, once they've caught up on sleep, cabin fever starts to set in around day 3. 

"What are you doing?" Erin tries to sound nonchalant rather than accusatory.

"My laundry," Abby says. 

"Really?" 

"Obviously, I'm cooking us breakfast."

Erin cautiously approaches the stove, but Abby blocks her view. "Are you sure that's the best idea?"

"Look, I know my last attempt didn't work out so well--"

"No," she says, giving up and sitting at the table. "I personally love sweet-and-sour chicken and cheddar cheese in my omelets, but you're kind of recovering, and, I mean, we could just go to brunch."

Abby sets a plate in front of Erin. "I promise you won't have to pretend to like this--"

"I would never _pretend_," she starts to say.

"--because it's going to blow your mind." She stands back and watches as Erin takes a very small, tentative bite of her French toast, and then another, and another.

"Holy crap," Erin says. "Where did that come from?"

"Well, it occurred to me," she says, "that while it was perfectly acceptable to make sweet-and-sour chicken and cheddar omelettes for me, and occasionally Holtzmann--who lost her ability to taste many years ago--I have more responsibility now. Cooking for two and all. So I followed the recipe to a T. No more experimenting." She touches her pinky to her thumb in a slightly rusty version of the Girl Scout pledge. "Scout's honor."

"Wow," Erin says. "You must really like me."

Abby shrugs. "You're all right."

She takes a few more bites of French toast. "If only there was a way I could reciprocate. You know, to show you how much I like you."

"You could do the dishes."

"I could," she agrees. "Or, you know, maybe something else?"

It takes Abby a few minutes to catch on. Erin finishes her breakfast. "Oh! Right. I guess I'll do the dishes, then."

"Maybe later?"

"Right," Abby says. 

The dishes can definitely wait.

*

3.

"Oh, my _God_," Abby yells. 

Kevin, startled, falls out of his chair.

Holtzmann hears nothing but the dulcet tones of Suzi Quatro blaring through the headphones Patty had thoughtfully given her on behalf of, well, everyone just two weeks prior.

Patty shows up in the doorway, proton shotgun in hand. "What is it? Are you possessed again? Or Kevin?" She looks down at her hands. "Am _I_ possessed?" 

Patty might, possibly, have some unaddressed trauma following the Rowan incident that they probably need to discuss at some point.

"No one's possessed," Abby says. She holds up an authentic, original Dana Scully action figure that had been carefully placed atop her desk that morning. "I had one just like this a million years ago!"

"You got me all worked up for a damn doll," Patty says, shaking her head. 

"I'll have you know, Patty, that this is a damn _action figure_."

"You know, some of us are actually here to work, not play around with toys." She disappears, muttering to herself.

"Erin," Abby bellows.

"I guess you found her," Erin says, cradling a cup of coffee. 

"Did you do this?"

"Well, it's kind of our anniversary," she points out. "I wanted to do something nice."

Uh oh. Is it? Abby does the math. "No, it's not. Our anniversary's not for like two months. Not that I'm complaining, I'm so happy to see her again, but I didn't--"

"Not that anniversary," Erin says. "It's the day I came back, and you brought me to see a ghost, and helped me figure out that I'd been an idiot for a really long time. So, thank you."

"It's just like my old one," Abby marvels. "I haven't seen her in years."

Erin shrugs. "I found it online. Least I could do."

Abby gently places Scully on the desk and hugs Erin. "Thank you so much! But I feel bad, I didn't get you anything."

"Well," Erin says into her ear, "I guess you'll just have to make it up to me."

"I could make you dinner," Abby says. 

Erin waits.

"Oh, never mind, I see what you--yes, of course, I will definitely make it up to you. Several times, probably."

They're about to engage in some PDA that's highly inappropriate for the workplace when the lights go out.

Somewhere, Holtzmann curses. 

Kevin, startled, falls out of his chair.

"Shouldn't the backup generator have kicked in?" Patty's standing in the doorway again. It's hard to see her in the dark, but Abby can tell that she's still armed. "Why do I feel like something creepy is about to happen?"

"Relax, everybody," Abby says. "I'm sure it's just--"

A tiny but oddly deep voice behind her says, "Quiet!"

_Oh, hell, no,_ Abby thinks.

"Oh, hell, no," Patty says. "Tell me that doll--"

"Action figure."

"--did not just talk. I thought you said no one was possessed!"

Scully's eyes are glowing red. 

"Um, Erin. A word?" Abby hisses.

"Yes, Abby?"

"Where did Scully come from?"

"Maine, I think?"

"Nothing unusual about the item description?"

Erin thinks. "It might've said _caveat emptor_. I thought that just meant 'as is.'"

"I've come to collect your souls," Scully says.

"Too bad for you, we're the ghostbusters," Patty says. When she's done, Scully's a deformed ball of plastic with red hair. 

The lights come back on.

"Well," Abby says, patting Erin's shoulder. "It's the thought that counts."


End file.
